


Blood in the Bleachers

by kyochisas



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Despair Verse AU, trash as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 10:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6799945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyochisas/pseuds/kyochisas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's an army to king? What's one death to an all-star!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood in the Bleachers

**Author's Note:**

> I AM READY TO EMBRACE DEATH K THANKS NICE KNOWING YOU ALL.

A sticky, red mess. Like a river of red water, blood splattered the playing field. It was on the plates, and all over the AstroTurf that made up the middle of the stadium. In the bleachers, headless corpses lent against one another, the tops of their spines exposed, red covering their white uniforms. Every player minus one.    
  
Struggling. Grunts of pain, desperation. He was middle aged, wrinkles in his forehead from many years of scowling. Bound by chest and ankle against one of the lights, he looked like a fish out of water... If it was portly and grey, that is. The man was scared. Crying. Hoping he could escape before he returned.   
  
He was wrong.   
  
Clap, clap. Two children, wearing heads like those of a familiar monochrome bear, ran from the coach's box either side of the captured man. One carried a sceptre, it' gold plating dull and hardly noticeable due to the high percentage of blood covering it's surface, most of it on the wide end, where a slightly scratched red jewel laid encased in a cage of metal. The other carried a crown, well polished and shining in the lights of the stadium.    
  
And from the batters box, another strolled out casually, his arms spread wide and a grin on his face. Wearing a cape of stained red velvet that dragged across the fake grass under his feet, the redheads steps were wide, dignified. Like royalty. He stopped a good few feet away from his victim and clapped his hands together. A robotic bear quickly came running over, it's big robotic figure getting down on its stout legs and pushing its weight against it's knees and elbows. The boy sat down on the back of this bear, letting one child place the crown on his head, and the other hand him his sceptre.   
  
"Wow, couch. Leon really did miss you!" He laughed a little, twirling the sceptre between his fingers like a cheerleader's baton, his face distorted with twisted glee. He giggled as the man in front of him began to sweat and struggle more. "Tsk tsk, you can't run from a royal courting, coach. Don't you know that's disrespectful to royalty?"   
"Kuwata, son, you don't-"   
"DON'T TALK WHILE THE KING IS SPEAKING!!" He pointed his sceptre accusingly, the sudden shout scaring the man into silence, and the Monokids stood either side of him to jump slightly. With a cough, he recoiled. "...Now look what you made me do. You made me scare my most loyal subjects. ...Run along, little ones. This is no playground."   
The children nodded and quickly scampered away, the redhead now returning his gaze to the strung up man, who had slowly began to struggle once more.   
"Now now, don't struggle. If you struggle it's only going to hurt more.~"   
"Kuwata, you really don't have to-"   
"Sh! Zip! Quiet!" Silence on the court. Nothing but distant screams in the background of murder and bloodshed. "Ahh... that's better. Music to my ears." Leon giggled to himself, taking a half-blissful expression before a stood to his feet, slowly approaching the post.   
  
"Every day. Every damn day Leon had to deal with you disgusting, filthy lowlifes, telling him what to do. 'Shave your hair, Kuwata', 'Oh, you look better as a brunette, Kuwata', 'Hey, where're your glasses, Kuwata?', 'Kuwata, you should take your piercings out for the game'- FUCK ALL OF IT." Slam. Snap. An outcry of pain. Glancing behind him with a slowly widening grin, his eyes caught on that, unintentionally, out of anger, he had slammed his sceptre right into his former coach's knee, snapping the bone and tearing through muscle with blood oozing out of the wound. Leon slowly wrapped his fingers around the handle. One, two... pull. Another cry of pain, blood pouring out of the wound slowly, like a disgusting red syrup. But Leon only looked away. "Aw... you messed up my sceptre..." He took on a half pout before returning and looking up to the middle aged man suppressing another outcry by biting his lip, so much so he even drew blood.   
“What’s the matter? Mister Coach all scared of a little pain? Fuhuhu…” Slow steps to the man's other side, the redhead silently thanks his subconscious for this brilliant idea. It was a swift motion - you couldn’t even see it coming - as he swung the sceptre right into the other knee, screams echoing through the stadium, unable to be suppressed. The bone being snapped right in two, and the jewel on the sceptre cracked again. Leon examined it again, running a finger over the crack with a frown. “This cost me an awful lot, ya know… A lot more than your life, I’d wager. But it’s fine, ‘cos it’s gonna be soooo much fun making you suffer.”   
  
Hours and hours of endless torture. Around the post, blood was everywhere, in splatters and in pools. The screaming went from almost constant to few and far between, probably because the victim was so exhausted. Both of his knees were broken, his legs covered in cuts from top to bottom, pain running through them like fire in a lush forest. But it was far from the end.   
"...Leon hasn't had this much fun in a long time, Mr. Coach. Thank you!" The despairingly cheerful all-star resumed his seat on the back of the robotic bear, his grin fading to a contemplative frown. "But something's missing... Something that will make you a great trophy for Leon's kingdom..." He seemed stumped about what was missing, tapping his sceptre against his leg as he clicked his tongue, trying to wrack his brain for whatever he could think of. And then-   
"Aha!" Leon stood to his feet with his non-free hand raised in triumph, proud of the fact he had thought of such a brilliant idea. And all by himself, too! What a great king he was.   
  
Once again, he began walking closer and closer to the captured victim, who had given up on struggling a while ago, and now instead only muttered in protest, half-dead from the pain alone. But not dead enough. Gently, as if he was going to wake a sleeping baby, Leon brought his sceptre closer to the bottom of the man's bloated stomach, placing It's diamond tip against the skin... before moving it across, ever so slowly, a trail of red in its wake, blood quickly trying to drown the stick as he only pushed deeper into the flesh to make it flow faster, like a waterfall of torture. That sure woke up his prisoner. Pained screeches resumed, and the struggling began again, the sudden burst of adrenaline soon depleting as blood loss began to take its toll. Bit the redhead wasn't finished yet.   
  
Taking the rings off of his right hand and dropping them as his feet, doing the same with his sceptre in his left hand, Leon reached into the wound and pried it open, the gash spraying blood onto his face and clothes, and onto his now exposed teeth as he grinned wildly at the noises he heard and the sights he saw. Pure despair. With his left hand holding the wide cut open, he used his right to reach in, soaking it in pooled blood from the barely alive man. He had to make this quick. He poked around the muscle and flesh, tongue stuck out in concentration until... aha! He had it. Fingers gripping on to the walls of the small intestine, he began to tug, and tug, only laughing at the last wails of his former coach at the sheer evilness he was demonstrating, the pain he was forcing upon this man. And all for a good cause.   
  
Rip. The intestine came out of the cut in a similar was a magician would pull a colourful bunting out of his sleeve, slowly but surely and seemingly endless. But alas, it did. And Leon stared at it with wonder, before looking up, seeing his victim now dead from shock, tears making his face red and blood pooling in his mouth and running out of it, akin to a baby trying to eat. Leon draped the small intestine around his neck like a feather boa, turning away from to post, seeming bored with it now there was nothing to play with.   
  
"Who's ready for a fashion show with King Leon, hm?"


End file.
